A Pluralistic Universe, by William James

Lecture VII

The Continuity of Experience

Green’s critique of Sensationalism. Relations are as immediately felt as terms are. The union of
things is given in the immediate flux, not in any conceptual reason that overcomes the flux’s aboriginal incoherence.
The minima of experience as vehicles of continuity. Fallacy of the objections to self-compounding. The concrete units
of experience are ‘their own others.’ Reality is confluent from next to next. Intellectualism must be sincerely
renounced. The Absolute is only an hypothesis. Fechner’s God is not the Absolute. The Absolute solves no
intellectualist difficulty. Does superhuman consciousness probably exist?

I fear that few of you will have been able to obey Bergson’s call upon you to look towards the sensational life for
the fuller knowledge of reality, or to sympathize with his attempt to limit the divine right of concepts to rule our
mind absolutely. It is too much like looking downward and not up. Philosophy, you will say, doesn’t lie flat on its
belly in the middle of experience, in the very thick of its sand and gravel, as this Bergsonism does, never getting a
peep at anything from above. Philosophy is essentially the vision of things from above. It doesn’t simply feel the
detail of things, it comprehends their intelligible plan, sees their forms and principles, their categories and rules,
their order and necessity. It takes the superior point of view of the architect. Is it conceivable that it should ever
forsake that point of view and abandon itself to a slovenly life of immediate feeling? To say nothing of your
traditional Oxford devotion to Aristotle and Plato, the leaven of T.H. Green probably works still too strongly here for
his anti-sensationalism to be outgrown quickly. Green more than any one realized that knowledge about things
was knowledge of their relations; but nothing could persuade him that our sensational life could contain any relational
element. He followed the strict intellectualist method with sensations. What they were not expressly defined as
including, they must exclude. Sensations are not defined as relations, so in the end Green thought that they could get
related together only by the action on them from above of a ‘self-distinguishing’ absolute and eternal mind, present to
that which is related, but not related itself. ‘A relation,’ he said, ‘is not contingent with the contingency of
feeling. It is permanent with the permanence of the combining and comparing thought which alone constitutes
it.’44 In other words, relations are purely conceptual objects, and the
sensational life as such cannot relate itself together. Sensation in itself, Green wrote, is fleeting, momentary,
unnameable (because, while we name it, it has become another), and for the same reason unknowable, the very negation of
knowability. Were there no permanent objects of conception for our sensations to be ‘referred to,’ there would be no
significant names, but only noises, and a consistent sensationalism must be speechless.45 Green’s intellectualism was so earnest that it produced a natural and an inevitable effect. But the
atomistic and unrelated sensations which he had in mind were purely fictitious products of his rationalist fancy. The
psychology of our own day disavows them utterly,46 and Green’s laborious
belaboring of poor old Locke for not having first seen that his ideas of sensation were just that impracticable sort of
thing, and then fled to transcendental idealism as a remedy — his belaboring of poor old Locke for this, I say, is
pathetic. Every examiner of the sensible life in concreto must see that relations of every sort, of time,
space, difference, likeness, change, rate, cause, or what not, are just as integral members of the sensational flux as
terms are, and that conjunctive relations are just as true members of the flux as disjunctive relations are.47 This is what in some recent writings of mine I have called the ‘radically
empiricist’ doctrine (in distinction from the doctrine of mental atoms which the name empiricism so often suggests).
Intellectualistic critics of sensation insist that sensations are disjoined only. Radical empiricism insists
that conjunctions between them are just as immediately given as disjunctions are, and that relations, whether
disjunctive or conjunctive, are in their original sensible givenness just as fleeting and momentary (in Green’s words),
and just as ‘particular,’ as terms are. Later, both terms and relations get universalized by being conceptualized and
named.48 But all the thickness, concreteness, and individuality of experience
exists in the immediate and relatively unnamed stages of it, to the richness of which, and to the standing inadequacy
of our conceptions to match it, Professor Bergson so emphatically calls our attention. And now I am happy to say that
we can begin to gather together some of the separate threads of our argument, and see a little better the general kind
of conclusion toward which we are tending. Pray go back with me to the lecture before the last, and recall what I said
about the difficulty of seeing how states of consciousness can compound themselves. The difficulty seemed to be the
same, you remember, whether we took it in psychology as the composition of finite states of mind out of simpler finite
states, or in metaphysics as the composition of the absolute mind out of finite minds in general. It is the general
conceptualist difficulty of any one thing being the same with many things, either at once or in succession, for the
abstract concepts of oneness and manyness must needs exclude each other. In the particular instance that we have dwelt
on so long, the one thing is the all-form of experience, the many things are the each-forms of experience in you and
me. To call them the same we must treat them as if each were simultaneously its own other, a feat on conceptualist
principles impossible of performance.

On the principle of going behind the conceptual function altogether, however, and looking to the more primitive flux
of the sensational life for reality’s true shape, a way is open to us, as I tried in my last lecture to show. Not only
the absolute is its own other, but the simplest bits of immediate experience are their own others, if that hegelian
phrase be once for all allowed. The concrete pulses of experience appear pent in by no such definite limits as our
conceptual substitutes for them are confined by. They run into one another continuously and seem to interpenetrate.
What in them is relation and what is matter related is hard to discern. You feel no one of them as inwardly simple, and
no two as wholly without confluence where they touch. There is no datum so small as not to show this mystery, if
mystery it be. The tiniest feeling that we can possibly have comes with an earlier and a later part and with a sense of
their continuous procession. Mr. Shadworth Hodgson showed long ago that there is literally no such object as the
present moment except as an unreal postulate of abstract thought.49 The
‘passing’ moment is, as I already have reminded you, the minimal fact, with the ‘apparition of difference’ inside of it
as well as outside. If we do not feel both past and present in one field of feeling, we feel them not at all. We have
the same many-inone in the matter that fills the passing time. The rush of our thought forward through its fringes is
the everlasting peculiarity of its life. We realize this life as something always off its balance, something in
transition, something that shoots out of a darkness through a dawn into a brightness that we feel to be the dawn
fulfilled. In the very midst of the continuity our experience comes as an alteration. ‘Yes,’ we say at the full
brightness, ‘this is what I just meant.’ ‘No,’ we feel at the dawning, ‘this is not yet the full meaning,
there is more to come.’ In every crescendo of sensation, in every effort to recall, in every progress towards the
satisfaction of desire, this succession of an emptiness and fulness that have reference to each other and are one flesh
is the essence of the phenomenon. In every hindrance of desire the sense of an ideal presence which is absent in fact,
of an absent, in a word, which the only function of the present is to mean, is even more notoriously there.
And in the movement of pure thought we have the same phenomenon. When I say Socrates is mortal, the moment
Socrates is incomplete; it falls forward through the is which is pure movement, into the
mortal which is indeed bare mortal on the tongue, but for the mind is that mortal, the mortal
Socrates, at last satisfactorily disposed of and told off.50

Here, then, inside of the minimal pulses of experience, is realized that very inner complexity which the
transcendentalists say only the absolute can genuinely possess. The gist of the matter is always the same — something
ever goes indissolubly with something else. You cannot separate the same from its other, except by abandoning the real
altogether and taking to the conceptual system. What is immediately given in the single and particular instance is
always something pooled and mutual, something with no dark spot, no point of ignorance. No one elementary bit of
reality is eclipsed from the next bit’s point of view, if only we take reality sensibly and in small enough pulses —
and by us it has to be taken pulse-wise, for our span of consciousness is too short to grasp the larger collectivity of
things except nominally and abstractly. No more of reality collected together at once is extant anywhere, perhaps, than
in my experience of reading this page, or in yours of listening; yet within those bits of experience as they come to
pass we get a fulness of content that no conceptual description can equal. Sensational experiences are their
‘own others,’ then, both internally and externally. Inwardly they are one with their parts, and outwardly they pass
continuously into their next neighbors, so that events separated by years of time in a man’s life hang together
unbrokenly by the intermediary events. Their names, to be sure, cut them into separate conceptual entities,
but no cuts existed in the continuum in which they originally came.

If, with all this in our mind, we turn to our own particular predicament, we see that our old objection to the
self-compounding of states of consciousness, our accusation that it was impossible for purely logical reasons, is
unfounded in principle. Every smallest state of consciousness, concretely taken, overflows its own definition. Only
concepts are self-identical; only ‘reason’ deals with closed equations; nature is but a name for excess; every point in
her opens out and runs into the more; and the only question, with reference to any point we may be considering, is how
far into the rest of nature we may have to go in order to get entirely beyond its overflow. In the pulse of inner life
immediately present now in each of us is a little past, a little future, a little awareness of our own body, of each
other’s persons, of these sublimities we are trying to talk about, of the earth’s geography and the direction of
history, of truth and error, of good and bad, and of who knows how much more? Feeling, however dimly and
subconsciously, all these things, your pulse of inner life is continuous with them, belongs to them and they to it. You
can’t identify it with either one of them rather than with the others, for if you let it develop into no matter which
of those directions, what it develops into will look back on it and say, ‘That was the original germ of me.’

In principle, then, the real units of our immediately-felt life are unlike the units that intellectualist
logic holds to and makes its calculations with. They are not separate from their own others, and you have to take them
at widely separated dates to find any two of them that seem unblent. Then indeed they do appear separate even as their
concepts are separate; a chasm yawns between them; but the chasm itself is but an intellectualist fiction, got by
abstracting from the continuous sheet of experiences with which the intermediary time was filled. It is like the log
carried first by William and Henry, then by William, Henry, and John, then by Henry and John, then by John and Peter,
and so on. All real units of experience overlap. Let a row of equidistant dots on a sheet of paper symbolize
the concepts by which we intellectualize the world. Let a ruler long enough to cover at least three dots stand for our
sensible experience. Then the conceived changes of the sensible experience can be symbolized by sliding the ruler along
the line of dots. One concept after another will apply to it, one after another drop away, but it will always cover at
least two of them, and no dots less than three will ever adequately cover it. You falsify it if you treat it
conceptually, or by the law of dots.

What is true here of successive states must also be true of simultaneous characters. They also overlap each other
with their being. My present field of consciousness is a centre surrounded by a fringe that shades insensibly into a
subconscious more. I use three separate terms here to describe, this fact; but I might as well use three hundred, for
the fact is all shades and no boundaries. Which part of it properly is in my consciousness, which out? If I name what
is out, it already has come in. The centre works in one way while the margins work in another, and presently overpower
the centre and are central themselves. What we conceptually identify ourselves with and say we are thinking of at any
time is the centre; but our full self is the whole field, with all those indefinitely radiating subconscious
possibilities of increase that we can only feel without conceiving, and can hardly begin to analyze. The collective and
the distributive ways of being coexist here, for each part functions distinctly, makes connexion with its own peculiar
region in the still wider rest of experience and tends to draw us into that line, and yet the whole is somehow felt as
one pulse of our life — not conceived so, but felt so.

In principle, then, as I said, intellectualism’s edge is broken; it can only approximate to reality, and its logic
is inapplicable to our inner life, which spurns its vetoes and mocks at its impossibilities. Every bit of us at every
moment is part and parcel of a wider self, it quivers along various radii like the wind-rose on a compass, and the
actual in it is continuously one with possibles not yet in our present sight.51 And just as we are co-conscious with our own momentary margin, may not we ourselves form the margin
of some more really central self in things which is co-conscious with the whole of us? May not you and I be confluent
in a higher consciousness, and confluently active there, tho we now know it not?

I am tiring myself and you, I know, by vainly seeking to describe by concepts and words what I say at the same time
exceeds either conceptualization or verbalization. As long as one continues talking, intellectualism remains
in undisturbed possession of the field. The return to life can’t come about by talking. It is an act; to make
you return to life, I must set an example for your imitation, I must deafen you to talk, or to the importance of talk,
by showing you, as Bergson does, that the concepts we talk with are made for purposes of practice and not for
purposes of insight. Or I must point, point to the mere that of life, and you by inner sympathy must
fill out the what for yourselves. The minds of some of you, I know, will absolutely refuse to do so, refuse to
think in non-conceptualized terms. I myself absolutely refused to do so for years together, even after I knew that the
denial of manyness-inoneness by intellectualism must be false, for the same reality does perform the most various
functions at once. But I hoped ever for a revised intellectualist way round the difficulty, and it was only after
reading Bergson that I saw that to continue using the intellectualist method was itself the fault. I saw that
philosophy had been on a false scent ever since the days of Socrates and Plato, that an intellectual answer to
the intellectualist’s difficulties will never come, and that the real way out of them, far from consisting in the
discovery of such an answer, consists in simply closing one’s ears to the question. When conceptualism summons life to
justify itself in conceptual terms, it is like a challenge addressed in a foreign language to some one who is absorbed
in his own business; it is irrelevant to him altogether — he may let it lie unnoticed. I went thus through the ‘inner
catastrophe’ of which I spoke in the last lecture; I had literally come to the end of my conceptual stock-intrade, I
was bankrupt intellectualistically, and had to change my base. No words of mine will probably convert you, for words
can be the names only of concepts. But if any of you try sincerely and pertinaciously on your own separate accounts to
intellectualize reality, you may be similarly driven to a change of front. I say no more: I must leave life to teach
the lesson.

We have now reached a point of view from which the self-compounding of mind in its smaller and more accessible
portions seems a certain fact, and in which the speculative assumption of a similar but wider compounding in remoter
regions must be reckoned with as a legitimate hypothesis. The absolute is not the impossible being I once thought it.
Mental facts do function both singly and together, at once, and we finite minds may simultaneously be co-conscious with
one another in a superhuman intelligence. It is only the extravagant claims of coercive necessity on the absolute’s
part that have to be denied by a priori logic. As an hypothesis trying to make itself probable on analogical
and inductive grounds, the absolute is entitled to a patient hearing. Which is as much as to say that our serious
business from now onward lies with Fechner and his method, rather than with Hegel, Royce, or Bradley. Fechner treats
the superhuman consciousness he so fervently believes in as an hypothesis only, which he then recommends by all the
resources of induction and persuasion.

It is true that Fechner himself is an absolutist in his books, not actively but passively, if I may say so. He talks
not only of the earth-soul and of the star-souls, but of an integrated soul of all things in the cosmos without
exception, and this he calls God just as others call it the absolute. Nevertheless he thinks only of the
subordinate superhuman souls, and content with having made his obeisance once for all to the august total soul of the
cosmos, he leaves it in its lonely sublimity with no attempt to define its nature. Like the absolute, it is ‘out of
range,’ and not an object for distincter vision. Psychologically, it seems to me that Fechner’s God is a lazy postulate
of his, rather than a part of his system positively thought out. As we envelop our sight and hearing, so the earth-soul
envelops us, and the star-soul the earth-soul, until — what? Envelopment can’t go on forever; it must have an
abschluss, a total envelope must terminate the series, so God is the name that Fechner gives to this last
all-enveloper. But if nothing escapes this all-enveloper, he is responsible for everything, including evil, and all the
paradoxes and difficulties which I found in the absolute at the end of our third lecture recur undiminished. Fechner
tries sincerely to grapple with the problem of evil, but he always solves it in the leibnitzian fashion by making his
God non-absolute, placing him under conditions of ‘metaphysical necessity’ which even his omnipotence cannot violate.
His will has to struggle with conditions not imposed on that will by itself. He tolerates provisionally what he has not
created, and then with endless patience tries to overcome it and live it down. He has, in short, a history. Whenever
Fechner tries to represent him clearly, his God becomes the ordinary God of theism, and ceases to be the absolutely
totalized all-enveloper.52 In this shape, he represents the ideal element in
things solely, and is our champion and our helper and we his helpers, against the bad parts of the universe.

Fechner was in fact too little of a metaphysician to care for perfect formal consistency in these abstract regions.
He believed in God in the pluralistic manner, but partly from convention and partly from what I should call
intellectual laziness, if laziness of any kind could be imputed to a Fechner, he let the usual monistic talk about him
pass unchallenged. I propose to you that we should discuss the question of God without entangling ourselves in advance
in the monistic assumption. Is it probable that there is any superhuman consciousness at all, in the first place? When
that is settled, the further question whether its form be monistic or pluralistic is in order.

Before advancing to either question, however, and I shall have to deal with both but very briefly after what has
been said already, let me finish our retrospective survey by one more remark about the curious logical situation of the
absolutists. For what have they invoked the absolute except as a being the peculiar inner form of which shall enable it
to overcome the contradictions with which intellectualism has found the finite many as such to be infected? The
many-inone character that, as we have seen, every smallest tract of finite experience offers, is considered by
intellectualism to be fatal to the reality of finite experience. What can be distinguished, it tells us, is separate;
and what is separate is unrelated, for a relation, being a ‘between,’ would bring only a twofold separation. Hegel,
Royce, Bradley, and the Oxford absolutists in general seem to agree about this logical absurdity of manyness-inoneness
in the only places where it is empirically found. But see the curious tactics! Is the absurdity reduced in the
absolute being whom they call in to relieve it? Quite otherwise, for that being shows it on an infinitely greater
scale, and flaunts it in its very definition. The fact of its not being related to any outward environment, the fact
that all relations are inside of itself, doesn’t save it, for Mr. Bradley’s great argument against the finite is that
in any given bit of it (a bit of sugar, for instance) the presence of a plurality of characters (whiteness and
sweetness, for example) is self-contradictory; so that in the final end all that the absolute’s name appears to stand
for is the persistent claim of outraged human nature that reality shall not be called absurd.
Somewhere there must be an aspect of it guiltless of self-contradiction. All we can see of the absolute,
meanwhile, is guilty in the same way in which the finite is. Intellectualism sees what it calls the guilt, when
comminuted in the finite object; but is too near-sighted to see it in the more enormous object. Yet the absolute’s
constitution, if imagined at all, has to be imagined after the analogy of some bit of finite experience. Take any
real bit, suppress its environment and then magnify it to monstrosity, and you get identically the type of
structure of the absolute. It is obvious that all your difficulties here remain and go with you. If the relative
experience was inwardly absurd, the absolute experience is infinitely more so. Intellectualism, in short, strains off
the gnat, but swallows the whole camel. But this polemic against the absolute is as odious to me as it is to you, so I
will say no more about that being. It is only one of those wills of the wisp, those lights that do mislead the morn,
that have so often impeded the clear progress of philosophy, so I will turn to the more general positive question of
whether superhuman unities of consciousness should be considered as more probable or more improbable.

In a former lecture I went over some of the fechnerian reasons for their plausibility, or reasons that at least
replied to our more obvious grounds of doubt concerning them. The numerous facts of divided or split human personality
which the genius of certain medical men, as Janet, Freud, Prince, Sidis, and others, have unearthed were unknown in
Fechner’s time, and neither the phenomena of automatic writing and speech, nor of mediumship and ‘possession’
generally, had been recognized or studied as we now study them, so Fechner’s stock of analogies is scant compared with
our present one. He did the best with what he had, however. For my own part I find in some of these abnormal or
supernormal facts the strongest suggestions in favor of a superior co-consciousness being possible. I doubt whether we
shall ever understand some of them without using the very letter of Fechner’s conception of a great reservoir in which
the memories of earth’s inhabitants are pooled and preserved, and from which, when the threshold lowers or the valve
opens, information ordinarily shut out leaks into the mind of exceptional individuals among us. But those regions of
inquiry are perhaps too spook-haunted to interest an academic audience, and the only evidence I feel it now decorous to
bring to the support of Fechner is drawn from ordinary religious experience. I think it may be asserted that there
are religious experiences of a specific nature, not deducible by analogy or psychological reasoning from our
other sorts of experience. I think that they point with reasonable probability to the continuity of our consciousness
with a wider spiritual environment from which the ordinary prudential man (who is the only man that scientific
psychology, so called, takes cognizance of) is shut off. I shall begin my final lecture by referring to them again
briefly.

47 Compare, as to all this, an article by the present writer, entitled ‘A
world of pure experience,’ in the Journal of Philosophy, New York, vol. i, pp. 533, 561 (1905).

48 Green’s attempt to discredit sensations by reminding us of their
‘dumbness,’ in that they do not come already named, as concepts may be said to do, only shows how
intellectualism is dominated by verbality. The unnamed appears in Green as synonymous with the unreal.

50 Most of this paragraph is extracted from an address of mine before the
American Psychological Association, printed in the Psychological Review, vol. ii, p. 105. I take pleasure in
the fact that already in 1895 I was so far advanced towards my present bergsonian position.

51 The conscious self of the moment, the central self, is probably
determined to this privileged position by its functional connexion with the body’s imminent or present acts. It is the
present acting self. Tho the more that surrounds it may be ‘subconscious’ to us, yet if in its ‘collective
capacity’ it also exerts an active function, it may be conscious in a wider way, conscious, as it were, over our
heads.

On the relations of consciousness to action see Bergson’s Matière et Mémoire, passim, especially chap. i.
Compare also the hints in Münsterberg’s Grundzüge der Psychologie, chap, xv; those in my own Principles of
Psychology, vol. ii, pp. 581–592; and those in W. McDougall’s Physiological Psychology, chap. vii.